


Heat of the Summer

by Voiid_Vagabond (Saturn_the_Almighty)



Category: Rooster Teeth/Achievement Hunter RPF
Genre: Alternate Universe - Grand Theft Auto Setting, Alternate Universe - Soulmates, Aroace Ryan, Aspec Relationship, Fake AH Crew, Hot/Cold Soulmates, M/M, Matchmaking, Multi, Platonic Soulmates mentioned, Shenanigans, Sort Of, There's no comedy in this rom com, Updating tags as I go, a little heavy towards the beginning, birthday fic, rom com
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-10-27
Updated: 2020-02-26
Packaged: 2021-01-04 21:34:42
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 5,723
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21204437
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Saturn_the_Almighty/pseuds/Voiid_Vagabond
Summary: Alfredo wanted to meet his soulmatereally badly.If it meant relief from all this. No one had told him that it hurt to be near but not together.A love story in three parts. About laughing and feeling and shivering and sweating and all the things that happen between Winter and Summer.





	1. Before the Summer

**Author's Note:**

  * For [George_Benji](https://archiveofourown.org/users/George_Benji/gifts).

> A birthday gift for my wonderful partner, [George_Benji,](https://archiveofourown.org/users/George_Benji/pseuds/George_Benji) even though it's super early. I'll be posting the rest of this leading up to the actual date.

Trevor had never known what it was like to feel warm. He wandered through life, stuck in a shitty day job that only  _ just _ paid the bills and wrapped in a thick, fluffy jacket day in and day out.

Sometimes he would see people on the street wearing short sleeves and shorts, laughing and smiling with the person next to them.

_ What was that like, _ he wondered. Not to be shivering, not to know the empty kind of  _ cold _ he lived with.

Trevor was older than a lot of his co-workers and the only one in his office save for one other who hadn't met their soulmate yet.

Soulmates gave you warmth. The closer you got to them the warmer you became until you met. And then the seasons came. Once you were together you could finally feel the real temperatures of the world.

Trevor wanted to know what the weather was like. He wanted to feel the seasons change around him. He wanted to know how hot the sun made everyone in summer.

His co-workers tried to cheer him up by telling him he was lucky he didn't know what summer was like. Trevor smiled a fake smile and went back to work.

He hated his desk job, wanted to get away and go somewhere new. Somewhere dangerous. He felt  _ drawn _ to it, like a magnet to a fridge.

All the articles and podcasts and youtube videos told him to go. They said that instinct was the number one factor in finding your soulmate sooner. Trevor could either sit around and wait for something to happen or go out and trust that he somehow knew where to go.

There was a city off the coast of the desert. A few hundred square kilometers of shitty people and too much money.

His poor coworkers didn't want him to go. They said that Los Santos was crawling with criminal gangs and corrupt business executives. Trevor brushed them off. He'd like to quit, he told his boss.

He'd like to hop on a tiny plane and travel to the desert and land on this dangerous horrible island and have something amazing happen to him and meet his soulmate so he knew what summer was like.

* * *

Los Santos had scorching summers. The sun beat down upon the city and fried every bit of skin it touched. People took to carrying umbrellas to try and shield themselves from the onslaught of ultraviolet rays.

But only a select few were spared from this. Los Santos was a city of crime, but that didn't mean it was a city free of love. Single people, blessedly soulmate-free during the hot and dry months, got dirty glares and sometimes even death threats. City of crime, after all. Some of those threats had substance.

Alfredo liked to walk along the boardwalk at sunset in dark jeans and a jacket and watch the people splashing in the surf to try and cool themselves off. He would kick up the sand that settled between the old boards and pull his collar up against his neck.

The sunset was beautiful, sure, but it lost its charm when all you could think of was how cold you were.

As people began to migrate away from the water when the sun set, Alfredo made his own way home. Well, not home, really.

Just a place he stayed.


	2. Part One: Cold Breath

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Alfredo wanted his soulmate.

Trevor was stuck in the airport between connecting flights. Apparently, it had been delayed due to what they called 'freak weather.' Trevor started to overthink his trip. Maybe this was a sign. Maybe he shouldn't be doing this. Los Santos was dangerous, what if he got murdered when he got there and never got to meet his soulmate?

He'd heard that the death of someone's soulmate hurt like being burned alive.

Trevor wouldn't wish that upon anyone.

He sat bouncing his leg, outside jacket on his knee because even if he was still freezing, it was rude to wear a huge fluffy parka indoors, right? His small carry-on suitcase sat at his feet, stuffed nearly to bursting. Spontaneous trips across the country called for quite a bit of planning. He didn't even know how long he'd be gone. Maybe he'd have to get a job to keep himself afloat while he searched for the love of his life.

That's why his printed resume was folded neatly in the outside pocket of the suitcase.

An attendant's voice rang tinny and monotone over the airport speakers. His flight was finally boarding.

Trevor walked briskly across the platform, not wanting to risk anyone taking his seat. He might just throw himself into the sea if he missed this flight.

The noise inside the plane was muffled and dull compared to the vast echo of the huge airport. There were soft lights and hushed voices and Trevor felt almost at ease until he found who he'd be sitting with for the duration of his several hour long flight.

The man was lounging more than sitting in the window seat. His arms were crossed comfortably and he had headphones on and his eyes closed. At least, Trevor assumed they were closed behind the long locks of red-brown hair that fell around his face. A streak over his temple was dyed a bright green.

Trevor tried not to disturb him as he stowed his suitcase but the man stirred at the smallest movement he made, jumping slightly and uncrossing his arms to brush the hair out of his face. He pushed his headphones down to his neck and glanced up at Trevor. He seemed torn between whether or not he should smile to his seatmate.

Trevor beat him to it, beaming like the good little office employee he had been until a day ago. He sat down without offering his hand, thinking himself smart enough to know when someone didn't shake hands. The man had his hiding in the sleeves of his hoodie and they didn't look like they'd be coming out.

Trevor didn't drop his smile as he settled into his seat and buckled himself in. A flight attendant was working on getting everyone to find their seats and calm down. Trevor's seatmate slid lower in his seat and put his headphones back on. Trevor thought he was about a minute away from flipping his hood up. He didn't look like he was particularly happy to be on this flight.

Trevor, if he was being honest, wasn't having time of his life either. The big jacket he was wearing didn't quite fit into the tiny seat and it spilled over the armrests. If ever there was a time for sympathy from strangers, it was now.

He tried to pull his jacket out of the aisle as an attendant headed down their way, but she stopped at his seat anyway, and clasped her hands at her waist.

"I'm sorry, sir we don't _ allow _ jackets on the plane," she said, her voice equal parts placating and condescending.

Trevor was shocked, and not a little offended. He opened his mouth to bite back at her, but a snort from beside him stopped him short. He turned to his seatmate, now sitting up straight with his sleeves pushed up his forearms and his headphones in his hands.

"That's not a real policy," he said, sounding like he'd had this conversation more times than he could count. "So why don't you stop discriminating and find someone else to bother?"

Trevor stared, wide-eyed as the attendant huffed loudly and left. His seatmate eyed him from under his hair and cracked a smile.

"Are you cold, buddy?” he wondered. Trevor was struck silent for a moment before he found his voice.

"Frigid," he replied.

His seatmate still didn't offer his hand, but he offered his name.

"I'm Myatt Bragg," he said. Trevor bundled his jacket up to his chest and returned Myatt's smile.

"Trevor Collins."

During the flight, Trevor and Myatt became fast friends. They both shared a love of video games and the sound of people's genuine laughs. Myatt got to talking about his soulmate, but Trevor didn't feel the same kind of ache in his chest that he did when other people talked about it. Myatt poured all the love he could muster into every single word he spoke and he never once asked about Trevor's search.

"I'm lucky," Myatt said, opening a bag of tiny pretzels.

"I met my soulmate really young. So soon that I hadn't even had the whole 'temperature talk' yet. We just… we were good friends since childhood and we didn't even know what it was like to be cold."

Myatt smiled to himself, staring down at a pretzel.

"He told me that his teenage years would have been terrible if he hadn't known what it was like to lay on my floor and complain about how hot it was with me."

Trevor found himself grinning right along with Myatt. His stories were sweet. About a strong friendship that never wavered, never really _ changed, _ just evolved.

Myatt's voice was soothing in a tired kind of way. Trevor felt like he could fall asleep listening to Myatt tell him about the time he and his soulmate went to the beach and tried to light the sand on fire.

Wait.

"Isn't that, you know, _ illegal?” _ Trevor asked.

"Oh, yeah, probably," Myatt said matter-of-factly. Trevor stared at him, bewildered.

"I should probably have mentioned," Myatt said, "that we're kind of in a crime gang?"

Trevor stared.

"That's why you're on this flight," he said, mostly to himself.

"You live in Los Santos, don't you?" Trevor demanded. Myatt nodded.

"I'm with the Fakes," he admitted.

Trevor had no idea what he meant by that, but it was a good thing that he was a fantastic liar, so it seemed to Myatt that he did. The conversation fell away after that and they passed the rest of the flight in a comfortable silence.

Myatt waved goodbye to him as they both left the Los Santos International Airport. Trevor wondered if he should have asked for Myatt's number.

But, a crime gang? They could probably find him whether or not he wanted it.

* * *

Ryan's soulmates were idiots.

He was watching, from where he was sitting on the couch, Michael and Gavin try to eat oreos off Jeremy's head without touching him. Jack kept adding more as they went, ensuring the game didn't end. Geoff had taken up residence laying across the entire couch, including Ryan's lap, and was softly chuckling at them.

Jeremy's high laugh rang through the room as Gavin jerked his head back, screeching about how his _ tongue _ had _ touched Jeremy's head. _ Michael snatched the package of Oreos from Jack and paraded around the room in triumph, glad to be able to eat like a civilized person.

Jeremy wiped the crumbs off his head and went to wash off, leaving Gavin still being dramatic on the floor.

"Hey," Jeremy said as he headed towards the hall, "let me know if Myatt gets back, yeah? He was supposed to get a ride from Alfredo from the airport and they're gonna be back soon."

Jack nodded at him and Ryan raised his coke can to him.

"And let's all make sure Myatt Bragg knows how much we appreciate him too?“ Geoff said. "He didn't have to fly all the way to Austin for us, but he did, and now the Roosters probably won't kill us all."

"For now," Ryan mumbled, a smile playing across his lips. Jack didn't hesitate before smacking his arm.

"Ryan, hush," she warned. "That information is vital to _ both _ of our crews. The won't take us down after this. Won't even think about it for a very long time."

"Yeah," Geoff continued, "we should be able to rest easy for a while now."

* * *

Alfredo was late.

In his defence, however, he was late because he had been freaking out in the parking lot.

Despite many people's efforts to explain and describe, Alfredo didn't _ know _ what it felt like to be warm. He didn't know what to expect. So when he was parking outside the airport and a crowd of people exiting had wandered past him he hadn't thought twice.

Until his skin started tingling and his chest constricted almost _ painfully. _ The familiar cold he had always known fell away and was replaced by a different kind of dull feeling. Something that crept up from his stomach. Everything was suddenly **too close** and he had stumbled out of his car to get fresh air.

He knew one thing for certain — as soon as his ribs stopped aching and he'd gone back to the hideous _ comfort _ of being cold — his soulmate had been near.

It was a gravitational kind of pull under his skin, deep in his chest that strained against his sore ribs.

Alfredo wanted to meet them _ really badly. _ If it meant relief from all this. No one had told him that it hurt to be near but not together.

Myatt would have been a lot more ticked off that Alfredo was late had he not seen how shaken and confused he was.

"What happened?” Myatt asked as soon as Alfredo was within earshot.

Alfredo shrugged, his arms wrapped around himself. He shook his head as Myatt got closer, opening and closing his mouth, but no sounds came out. Myatt put his hands on Alfredo's arms and rubbed up and down, comforting him as he stopped shaking.

Myatt only had a duffle bag with him, which was convenient for both of them. Myatt hooked his arm around Alfredo's and started walking with him back out the main doors and down the sidewalk.

"I met a guy on the plane," Myatt said, trying to fill the silence and take Alfredo's mind off whatever had happened to him.

"He was really nice, bundled up in a big ol' parka. He listened to my stories about Jeremy like they were nothing." Myatt chuckled. "I might have also mentioned that I was with the Fakes," he mumbled. Alfredo shot him a look.

"In my defense, I thought it would make me look cooler," Myatt said, hands up. Alfredo rolled his eyes.

"You don't see me going around and telling random strangers that," he said.

Myatt sighed. "Well, you keep insisting that you're _ not," _ he said. "Which I still think is bullshit. You're as much a part of our crew as Geoff or Ryan," he said.

Alfredo cracked a smile at that. "Thanks, Myatt," he said softly. "That means something coming from you."

Alfredo drove Myatt back to the penthouse in relative silence. He didn't particularly want to talk right now, still reeling from his soulmate experience before. He glanced over at Myatt, calm and collected, looking tired from his trip.

Alfredo felt a pang of envy at him, someone who'd met his soulmate so young that he never had to experience any of this.

He got to live in happy bliss. No aching chest, no biting cold.

Alfredo wasn't even sure he _ wanted _ to meet his soulmate. He didn't know if they'd even like him. He was a criminal. A killer. He got a rush from it, that's why he got caught up in this profession. Any sane person wouldn't want to tangle themselves up in it too.

Alfredo immediately took over the couch when they got back. Myatt dropped his duffle bag at the door and let out a huge groan, his shoulders drooping significantly.

There was a thud from down the hall and a thumping of footsteps. Alfredo watched Myatt open his arms as Jeremy came barrelling into the room, running full-tilt at his soulmate. He crashed into Myatt and sent them both to the floor in a heap.

"Who's this cutie I see?” Jeremy joked, peppering Myatt's cheeks with kisses. Myatt's laughs came out more like wheezes with Jeremy's weight on his chest.

Alfredo got up and left the room. His ribs ached like they had in the parking lot. Like something was _ missing, just out of reach —_

Alfredo lied.

He wanted that. He wanted what Myatt had,that perfect bliss. He wanted what Ryan had, that warmth and softness from everyone around him. He wanted what Michael had, that unconditional affection and banter. He wanted what Jack had, a shoulder to lean on, a pair of arms to cry in. He wanted what Lindsay had, a beautiful partner who always knew what to do to cheer them up.

Alfredo wanted his soulmate.

* * *

"Ryan, I'd like you to help me find my soulmate."

Ryan looked up from where he was carding his fingers through Jack's hair and absently watching whatever was on the TV. Alfredo was in the kitchen, leaning over the counter and gripping it so hard his knuckles were turning white.

Ryan raised his eyebrows and leaned his head back over the arm of the couch, looking at Alfredo upside down. His hair swept down from his shoulders and brushed the floor.

"Why me?” he asked. Jack made a whiny noise and Ryan started running his fingers through her wavy hair again.

"Because you have _ five," _ Alfredo said. "I thought you might be kind of an expert on finding them?" He admitted.

"Bold of you to assume I had anything to so with finding them." Ryan grinned. "But that, my dear Fredo, is a story for another time."

He patted Jack's head softy and slipped off the couch, ignoring her long-suffering sigh as he left.

"But of course I'll help you," he said, spreading his arms wide. Alfredo lit up like the sun.

"Really?” he said in disbelief. "I actually have no idea where they are but I _ know _ they're here, in Los Santos, because I —” he pressed a hand to his chest, feeling his heart solidly beating behind his ribs.

"I felt them. And it hurt, and I want to stop hurting."

Ryan reached over the counter and placed his hand over Alfredo's which was resting on the marble top.

"I know," he said softly. "We'll find them. I promise it won't hurt anymore."

Alfredo gazed at Ryan, taking in the soft smile and the shine in his eyes. He really _ did _ want to know Ryan's story now.

Ryan insisted that they take his tron bike to ride around the city. Alfredo guessed that it was about the best idea they could pull off. After all, if he could sense when his soulmate was near they could that, right?

While Ryan searched around the garage for an extra helmet, Alfredo was mentally bracing himself for more pain. He assumed he'd be gauging how close they were by how much his chest felt like it was caving in on itself.

_ Breathe in through your nose, out through your mouth. _

Ryan tossed him a helmet and swung his leg over the bike, scooting forward to give Alfredo enough space to sit behind him. When their helmets were both secured, Ryan revved the engine and screamed out of the garage.

Alfredo had to hold on tightly to Ryan's waist as he zipped around the city, no real rhyme to his reason. With his eyes shut and the helmet blocking out the wind, Alfredo could concentrate on what he was feeling. Specifically his temperature.

As Ryan took a corner tightly enough for his wheels to scrape the curb, Alfredo's skin began to prickle, like something else that he remembered from the parking lot. Aside from the crushing ache in his chest Alfredo had felt _ warm. _ At least, that's what he assumed it was. There were a lot of in-depth descriptions of the feeling scattered across the internet, after all.

And there was something else, too, beneath the tingling. A soft _ tugging _ at his heart, something beckoning, a deep feeling that he couldn't possibly avoid. His eyes snapped open. He could feel it, almost touch it, he knew where it was — where _ they _ were. It was as if the ice around him was thawing and he could feel the flame.

Alfredo patted Ryan's arm and yelled over the sound of the motorcycle "Ryan, turn here!”

Ryan gripped the handlebars more tightly. "Right now? We're in _ traffic, _ Alfredo, are you crazy?” he wove in between the cars, coming up fast on a busy intersection.

They were losing it. Alfredo was losing his composure."I am playing hot/cold with _ myself, _ Ryan, I need you to trust me!” he snapped, putting everything he had into his voice.

Ryan growled, but he started leaning, taking the bike up onto the curb to make the turn without ramming into any cars. "Alright, fine, I'm turning!” he shouted.

Alfredo smiled to himself and kept guiding Ryan as well as he could, following the warm feeling, pausing to feel it grow. As they went, Alfredo realized they were heading towards the boardwalk. He wondered briefly if his soulmate was having fun.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I love my boyfriend so much 🤠💕💕💕💕


	3. Part Two: Getting Warmer

Trevor wasn't surprised when he got a call from an unknown number. A local area code, though, so he supposed it was either telemarketers or the man he'd met on the plane. Myatt Bragg. It was hard to forget a name like that, oddly enough.

Trevor picked up his phone.

"Trevor Collins, how may I help you?" he said instinctually. He cringed into the receiver. He sounded pathetic. Damn stupid office job.

Myatt Bragg chuckled. "Oh, you're dumb too!" he said playfully. Trevor glared at his phone.

"Yeah, what about it? It was a knee-jerk reaction. I've had that drilled into me." Trevor sighed, leaning back into the plasticy leather armchair in his hotel room.

Myatt hummed thoughtfully. "Desk job?" He guessed. "I understand."

Trevor waited for him to continue, seeing as _ he had called. _

"So uh…" Myatt cleared his throat quietly. "Will you let me show you around town? It's a lovely day out and the boardwalk is great!"

Trevor bit back a snarky comment about how little he gave a damn about the weather and sighed, running his fingers through his hair a few times.

"Sure, why not?" Maybe he'd even run into his soulmate?

Hah. Fat chance.

Myatt smirked on the other end of the phone, glancing over at Ryan and Alfredo, who were loudly discussing their plans to search for Alfredo's soulmate over Ryan's motorcycle.

Now, Myatt could be wrong. He'd considered that several times. But things kept adding up. Alfredo, shaken up at the very same airport where he'd left Trevor, _ both _ of their soulmate instincts kicking in at the same time and _ both _ of them willing to embark upon grand journeys to find each other.

He could be wrong, but what was the harm? Worse case scenario they just keep looking.

Myatt ended the call with an address to meet at and hung up, leaning against his orange Deluxo and sighing.

Playing matchmaker was hard work.

But he liked Alfredo a lot and the guy deserved someone he could be close to. In whatever way he needed.

* * *

Trevor would have been dressed more casually had he thought to bring anything of the sort. He had been so caught up in being prepared to find a job in Los Santos that all he'd taken along were interview-appropriate suits and his extensive collection of fine coats and jackets.

So when Myatt wrinkled his nose at Trevor, standing on the sidewalk in a suit vest, pressed pants and white parka that no doubt cost four times as much as it had any right to, Trevor sighed heavily and accepted the look lying down.

He slid into the passenger seat of Myatt's orange car and buckled in.

"You're not gonna drive me to an alley to get mugged and murdered by your crew, are you?" He asked warily. Myatt chuckled, which was not reassuring. 

"No, our resident mug-and-murder guy is occupied," he said, which was _ even less _ reassuring.

"Oh, cool, what's he like?" Trevor said, purely out of panic. Myatt raised an eyebrow carefully at Trevor.

"I'm sure you've heard of him…" he started ominously. "He's got this whole dark and edgy thing going on, skulls everywhere. Name's The Vagabond."

Trevor pretended the name didn't chill him to the bone. Hundreds of miles away, back at his old job, and the name still reached them. Accounts of what the man behind that name _ did. _

"Oh, yeah, sure, that rings a bell," Trevor stuttered out. _ That's _ why he should've known the Fakes.

"I won't let him kill you, Trevor," Myatt said, as if he had _ any _ say in who Ryan did and did not shank.

They made it to the boardwalk after a few detours and Myatt regaling Trevor with stories and history of the city, exciting tales of his crew's own exploits peppered in.

The ferris wheel was what caught Trevor's eye first, being one of the largest structures he could see. The lights blinked and changed, the wheel spinning lazily as happy people laughed and chatted all along the pier. There were games and food and prizes being handed out, a roller coaster rattling along overhead.

Trevor had to admit, it lifted his spirits just _ seeing it. _

* * *

  
Ryan trailed after Alfredo like a lost puppy. He had no idea where he was going, and seemed to just be weaving in between the game stalls and the crowds of people at random. He insisted that he was paying attention to the tiny inkling of warmth he felt, but Ryan couldn't be sure.

He'd be impressed if Alfredo really had that delicate of a temperature sense.

After nearly a half-hour of aimless (from Ryan's view) wandering around the boardwalk and the pier, Alfredo got distracted by a giant alligator plushie hanging from a game stall that he just _had_ to win.

Ryan let him have that, figuring that he needed a break. He turned away and headed to go find something to eat.

A few paces away was none other than Myatt Bragg. Ryan's eyes widened, unused to seeing his crewmates out and about. And not in their usual getups. Ryan had forgone his Vagabond face paint and jacket, preferring _not_ to scare the whole pier away and probably Alfredo's soulmate with them.

Myatt spotted him too, visibly perking up. He waved his arms, getting Ryan's full attention. He started pointing sharply at someone just to the left of Ryan.

He was tall, looked well-off and handsome. He was staring up at the ferris wheel like he'd never seen it before. Like he was _new in town._

"Wait." Ryan squinted at the man, his gaze flickering past him to Myatt, who was now gesturing wildly between him and Alfredo. It clicked. Ryan started back, swiveling on his heel and shouting at Alfredo, who was holding one of the carnival game's tiny guns like it was a sniper. He had one eye closed and his tongue was barely peeking out of his mouth as he concentrated.

"Alfredo!”

"What?” Alfredo didn't move. He took a shot. A balloon popped. Another, the same. The guy running the stand looked like he'd love nothing more than for Alfredo to leave.

"Come here, what do you mean 'what?'" Ryan hissed impatiently. He was considering stalking over to Alfredo and dragging him away before the man in question walked by and caused Alfredo to falter.

"I _ mean, _ I'm trying to beat this stupid game, Ryan, it better be —” he dropped the gun. His shoulders rose to his chin and he turned slightly, fighting against that same feeling he'd had at the airport and the warmth he'd been following all day.

"Oh my god…" Alfredo breathed, turning fully now. His eyes met Trevor's, breaths held between them. Trevor took the first step closer. He looked like he was physically pained, hand itching to reach up and clutch at his chest.

"I —" Alfredo reached out, on instinct he _ swore, _ and touched Trevor's hand as it came up.

"Ouch!" They both flinched back, the static shock confusing. Alfredo recovered first, wanting back whatever it was that he had felt behind the static. That same feeling was welling up in his chest, a blossoming fuzzy feeling, not unlike at the airport but softer. Safer. He snatched up Trevor's hand without thinking and held it in an awkward handshake position.

"Uh." This is it, he thought. This is _ warm. _

"Hey. I'm Trevor."

Alfredo glanced up to see a dazed yet understanding expression on the man. His cheeks were tinted and he was standing a bit stiffly but Alfredo could tell, he _ knew _ that the man was feeling the same thing.

They had found each other. They had found their soulmates.


	4. Part Three: Shedding Layers

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Happy birthday to the most amazing, sweet, and talented boyfriend anyone could ask for! 😚💕💕

Alfredo could only gawk at the man in front of him. His  ** _soulmate._ ** Their hands were still clasped together and he was just  _ staring. _ Great first impression, right?

Trevor was handsome. That fact stuck out like a sore thumb. He looked like he could be worth millions, from his slicked back dark hair to his sunglasses, his fluffy white parka and his pressed suit vest. He was smiling nervously at Alfredo but didn't seem to want to let go of his hand quite yet.

The feeling was mutual.

"I… uh…" Alfredo stuttered, still overwhelmed by the new sensations washing over him. He snapped his mouth shut and took a few beats to compose himself.

"Hi. I'm Alfredo," he managed, thankful that at least his voice still sounded normal.

Trevor smiled wider, this time looking more genuine.

"It's nice to meet you, Alfredo," he said politely. "So this is what summer feels like?" He mused, glancing around at the pier and the sky like they had somehow changed.

"It's terrible," Alfredo realized, noticing that the  _ heat, _ this new and wonderful thing, was seeping through his jacket and his dark jeans and making everything uncomfortable. He finally,  _ finally _ realized why people wore barely anything in summer.

Trevor laughed at that. It was a nice laugh, Alfredo noted, and he caught himself snickering along.

"Oh, absolutely horrible," Trevor said, shrugging out of his parka immediately. He had to let go of Alfredo for that, and he stared at Trevor's hands while he folded his jacket and rolled up his sleeves and unbuttoned his crisp, white dress shirt at the top.

"No wonder people wear nothing," Trevor mumbled. Alfredo, knocked his arm against Trevor's lightly, gasping.

"I thought the  _ exact same thing!" _ He said, taking a moment to pull his arms out of his own jacket. He simply slung it over his shoulder, cocking his hips to rest his weight on one foot.

Trevor smiled again.

Alfredo stared.

"Wow, we must really be soulmates then, huh?" He joked. Alfredo shrugged. "Fine by me."

* * *

It was a wonder to them both how quickly they both adjusted to their new perception of temperatures. After heartily accepting what was the horror of summer near the equator, they both explored what else heat had to offer. Together, of course.

Trevor cried openly in a restaurant when he finally got to enjoy a 'hot soup' how it was meant to be served.

Alfredo burned his mouth on a piping hot slice of pizza and continued to finish off the slice without stopping, which made Trevor laugh so hard at his lack of self-preservation that they were asked to leave.

Trevor, in addition to adjusting to heat, took the whole 'organized crime' thing very well.

So well, in fact, that he practically begged multiple members of the Fakes to be let in. Alfredo had finally let himself accept that the Fakes wanted him there as more than a part-time and joined in on begging to let Trevor in.

Myatt seemed a little miffed at the fact that as uncomfortable as Trevor had seemed about the crew earlier, he was all for it. When Gavin asked him why he was so enthusiastic about real, brutal crime, Trevor's response was delivered deapan and completely serious.

"I used to have an _office job."_

That was enough for some of them.

Trevor was admitted and partnered with Alfredo, of course. Trevor had a knack for the physics of aviation and he and Jack snuck off at all hours to hop in a plane and do stunts for the thrill of it.

Ryan took him to have a front row view of some of his more tame hits and Trevor seemed enchanted by the fact that he could feel the heat of Ryan's motor, sitting on the back of his bike as they sped through the city.

To say that they were blown away by Michael's explosives was true both literally and figuratively.

"I never knew it was  _ that fucking hot!" _ Trevor shouted, still prone on his back after forgetting to duck for cover from the fireball. Alfredo was screaming in excitement. And if Michael was caught smiling fondly at the two, no one mentioned it.

Jeremy took great pride in being able to help Trevor pick out and mod his vehicles. The two would spend entire days out in the hills, scouting the most expensive cars and bikes that the millionaires had to offer and weeks planning the heists. Because why  _ buy _ a fancy car when you can swipe it from under the nose of some asshole with too much money?

Gavin showed both Alfredo and Trevor his skills in action during an undercover job at a charity ball that didn't actually give any of the proceeds to charity.

It was like he was just  _ shut off _ everything about himself that made him Gavin to them. He was suave, charming and used his words as weapons. Silver-tongued and decked in gold, Gavin almost singlehandedly finished a job without any help from the two, who were mostly either watching Gavin in awe or staring at each other, doe-eyed.

That was the first time Trevor kissed Alfredo. Under the golden chandelier, champagne being passed around and snobbish voices floating by that neither of them heard.

Months passed and summer was in full-swing. Trevor and Alfredo were sunbathing on the penthouse balcony and chatting softly over iced drinks.

"This is  _ the worst," _ Alfredo said. It had become something of an inside joke between them. Trevor smirked at him from behind his glass.

"Terrible, indeed," he murmured.

And as much as the crew rolled their eyes at the duo's near-constant complaints about summer, they all knew, deep down, that they were grateful to finally be able to feel…

The heat of the Summer.


End file.
